Weicker Finds Moment Of Calm Amid Fiscal Turbulence

Slouched on the sofa, his tie loosened, Gov. Lowell P. Weicker Jr. spoke quietly and calmly, as if sensing the end of the battle was at hand.

He had summoned reporters to his office Monday morning to "schmooze." It wasn't a formal press conference, reporters were told. Cameras and microphones wouldn't be allowed.

Barely 10 hours had elapsed since Weicker had vetoed Alternative Tax Package II and delayed for 24 hours the shutdown of state government.

No one knew quite what to expect.

What reporters found was a scene that sharply contrasted with the drama of the preceding night. There was no fire or bombast or brinksmanship.

Instead, Weicker sat, mellow and reflective, patiently fielding questions for almost 40 minutes. Not once did he snap at anyone, a surprising development in itself.

It was too early to know whether Weicker's apparent optimism would be justified: whether the House and Senate would somehow do on Monday, the first day of the fiscal year, what they hadn't been able to do in recent days and weeks -- adopt a budget he would sign.

A few cynical observers suggested the event was staged, that it was to Weicker's advantage to appear calm and controlled in the midst of a crisis, one partly of his making. Whether the mid-morning chat was orchestrated was impossible to tell.

In any event, Weicker answered reporters' questions directly, saying he hadn't come this far to surrender, even if it meant incurring the wrath of lawmakers, state workers and voters.

"The easiest thing in the world for me would be to accept something I know isn't going to work, get these guys the hell out of town and run the state of Connecticut.

"There's only one problem with that: If I accept something I know isn't going to work ... it seems to me I'm not worthy to be called the governor of Connecticut. I should be doing something else -- maybe shoveling manure in the stables of my horses."

Although Weicker has never said an income tax is essential to a 1991-92 budget, he strongly implied -- as he has before -- that legislators and taxpayers, like alcoholics, must confront the

problem or face the consequences.

"To me this is a drying-out process for the state. And drying-out processes are not pleasant scenes. We're trying to do away with decades of being on a fiscal bender."

Weicker met earlier in the day with state Sen. William H. Nickerson, R-Greenwich, an architect of the latest income-tax plan, and hinted that he would sign the proposal if it reached his desk.

But he said that, for strategic reasons, he would not publicly embrace the proposal because he didn't want it to become known as the "Weicker plan," thus jeopardizing its chances.

Thus, Weicker, a former Republican who ran as an independent, acknowledged for the first time the factor of retribution. He said that although he still has "friends" in the Republican ranks, clearly there are some who want to see him fail, and will oppose an income tax for no other reason than that.

Although Weicker continued to express hope that the legislative gridlock would be broken and an income-tax-based budget passed, at one point he conceded that there was plenty to be discouraged about.

For one thing, Weicker said, residents only have to walk downtown in any of the state's major cities to see near-empty office towers and "for lease" signs everywhere.